


Gonna Be On Her List

by ChaoticWeevil



Category: Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Veronica Sawyer, F/F, Internalized Homophobia, It's fuckin sweet my dude, Lesbian Character, Lesbian Heather Duke, Short & Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-29 03:51:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16736574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaoticWeevil/pseuds/ChaoticWeevil
Summary: I finally did some basic edits on this! Enjoy some solid wlw rep, y'all. Shitty title's from Daddy Issue's song, aptly titled 'Veronica'.





	Gonna Be On Her List

**Author's Note:**

> I finally did some basic edits on this! Enjoy some solid wlw rep, y'all. Shitty title's from Daddy Issue's song, aptly titled 'Veronica'.

Veronica _almost_ felt guilty when she gave in to McNamara’s coaxing to snoop around a little while Duke was off on a date with Ram. Honestly, Veronica felt more genuinely guilt-filled about not protesting more about Duke’s choice in men, but there wasn’t much else Veronica could’ve done. What could she say? ‘Quit messing around with soon-to-be dropouts, Heather, why don’t you just go out with me for a while?’ Veronica wanted to make sure Duke didn’t get jumped by some stupidly horny quarterback, not seal her own fate of crucifixion when Duke to doubt told the school what exactly Veronica Sawyer was.

Veronica did, however, get another rush of guilt when she opened Duke’s diary and saw ‘VERONICA’ scrawled at the top of a page, with neat little bullet points arching down from it.

“Oh my _god,_ is that her diary?” McNamara squealed, standing on her tip-toes to try and peek over Veronica’s shoulder.

“Hey, no, this is—” Veronica fumbled for an excuse. “These are history notes. See?” She flashed the neat print, careful to cover up her own name at the top of the page. McNamara, immediately disinterested, sighed, turning back to Duke’s bedside table to keep sorting through the contents.

“I just can’t _believe_ she ditched on our sleepover to go on a date with my ex. How back-stabbing can she get? Our one time to talk without Heather C. breathing down our necks, and she goes and ruins it.”

“Uh-huh,” Veronica said, trying to skim over the diary page as quick as she could. Little phrases kept jumping out to her. ‘Unfairly pretty.’ ‘Definitely going to be the death of me.’ Veronica wasn’t anything close to Christian, but the only thing she could think right now was a shocked chorus of ‘Jesus Christ’s. She had to read over this in full, _right now._

“I’ll be right back,” she reassured McNamara, who had given up on finding anything interesting in favor of flopping back on Duke’s bed, fiddling with the radio. “I’ve gotta call my mom. She always goes full-blown Godzilla when I don’t let her know I’m not at some kind of rager.”

“Yeah, no duh. Go call her, I’ll try and find something decent to listen to.”

Veronica hurried out to the kitchen with the diary in hand, trying to angle herself so her back hid the book from sight, so she could pick up the landline and start a fake-conversation if needed, anything she could do to try and read in the dim light without getting herself caught. And then she took a deep breath. And then she opened the diary again.

“VERONICA:

\- Unfairly pretty. The worst part is, she doesn’t seem to know it. Chandler keeps criticizing every last shade of lip-gloss Veronica so much as looks at. I swear, if I hear Heather whine, ‘bag your face, Veronica’ one more time, my IQs going to drop twenty points. Could Veronica stop laughing in return, though? Even her laugh is pretty. Totally unfair.

\- She’s smart. Harvard smart. I wish we’d met in college, somewhere Ivy League, away from parents and Heathers and the god damned gossip circle. I think I could like girls if I was in college instead of here. I know I could (do?) like Veronica.

\- She’s genuine, she’s unfortunately nice. I can’t remember the last time someone admitted they worry about me, and it’s not like I need anyone to worry about me, but it’s awful nice anyway. God, she’s definitely going to be the death of me.”

Veronica’s breath caught in her throat. She flipped a few more pages, searching for anything more about her, even if she was all too aware her cheeks were going pink. Duke thought she was _pretty._

“Roses are red,

violets (aren’t actually) blue,

I think I love Ronnie,

I’m so totally screwed.

Also, I think I’m bad at poetry. I don’t know what else to do, though. Ronnie lent me her jacket today, draped it over my shoulders and everything. I never know what to say, other than being a bitch about it. Or being way too soft, but then Chandler just ends up kicking my ass sooner or later. It’d be worth it to see Veronica smile, though. I reiterate: I’m totally screwed.”

Another page. Veronica was leaned in towards the diary now, not quite sure if what was running through her veins was blood or giddy anxiety anymore.

“Veronica Sawyer. God, even her name is something special. She feels all navy blue sweaters and soft hair and dimples. I don’t even know what that means, I just _feel_ it. I still don’t know what to do. I don’t think Ronnie would ever tell the school that I like girls, but I don’t doubt that Chandler would. McNamara might, if she got too spooked. I just don’t know how to get over Ronnie without telling her, but I don’t know how to tell her in a way that isn’t going to label me the school dyke. The only way I’d be able to defend against that is claim Veronica’s the one who told me, but it’s not like I could do that to her. No way in hell.

She did my makeup today, since I was still hungover from last night. She’s the best, I’m not even surprised that trying to date boys isn’t working, but it’s still frustrating. I’ve got to tell Veronica. Somehow. I’m screwed, I’m screwed, I’m screwed.”

The back door opened. “Veronica? Is that my-- Oh my god.”

Oh, _shit._ Veronica jerked her head up to see a wide-eyed Duke standing in the doorway, Ram’s letterman jacket over her shoulder, and with smudged lipstick accentuating just how pale she’d gotten all of a sudden.

“Duke. Hey, you’re back, that was quick—”

“I’m so sorry,” Duke whispered, eyes darting around like she was terrified twenty other people would jump out from the shadows with copies of her diary. Maybe she was. “God, I really am, I never meant for anyone to s _ee_ that.”

Veronica shut the book as quick as she could, pushing it across the counter to Duke. The other girl recoiled back, though, refusing to make claim to the diary, so Veronica rounded the counter herself, keeping her hands out in surrender. “I’m not mad. I swear I’m not mad. I won’t tell anyone. C’mere, it’s okay, let’s just go outside so we can talk a little louder, okay?” She grabbed the diary and ushered Duke outside, out to the cheesy little fishpond with the stone bench nearby. Veronica was hoping that the sound of softly running water would help calm Duke down, but the time it took to walk there just seemed to make Duke tense up more.

“Look,” she said, the second Veronica sat down. “I don’t want your kindness right now. Just tell me you think I’m gross and let me go take a shower. I _feel_ gross, at least.”

“I don’t think you’re gross,” Veronica said.

“See how easy that was? It’s no big deal, I can—Wait. What?”

“I don’t think you’re gross, Duke. Sit down with me?”

Duke kept her arms wrapped around herself as she perched on the other end of the bench, eyes still the size of dinner plates as she tried to study Veronica’s expression in the dark.

“But I’m… You know. A _lesbian._ ”

“No duh. That’s one topic, and this is another: I don’t think you’re gross. I mean—” Now it was Veronica’s turn to curl in on herself, shrugging ever so slightly. “I like girls too. And I like boys. I don’t know what that makes me, but I know it isn’t _gross._ Besides, it’d be hypocritical of me to think you’re something disgusting for liking me.”

“Why’s that?” asked Duke, voice gone softer than Veronica had ever heard it. She’d uncurled her fingers from Ram’s jacket, letting them slide down onto the bench between them. Veronica slowly, like she was trying to coax a spooked kitten, placed her hands over Duke’s and squeezed.

“I’ve got a crush on you, Heather Duke. I’ve got a big, stupid crush on you.”

Duke’s lips were pressed up against Veronica’s before either of them had time to overthink. It was a careful kiss, barely lasting long enough to let the tension melt out of the two of them, but it was enough for them to grin in peace the second they pulled back. Veronica pressed her forehead against Duke’s, tangling her finger’s up in Duke’s hair. Duke leaned in for another peck. And then three more.

“That turned out… _Much_ better than expected,” Duke said, voice breathy with kisses and giggles. “I think I can safely say that I’m not screwed.”

“I think you’ll be screwed soon enough,” Veronica teased.

“ _Ronnie!_ ” Duke was laughing, though, hanging on to the front of Veronica’s shirt like a lifeline. Veronica ended up laughing too, letting her eyes close for one blissful moment.

“I don’t know what we’re going to do, though,” Dude said. Veronica peeked an eye open. “I mean, we can hardly date, right?”

“I think we’ll manage. Plenty of teenage girls go places together, just the two of them.”

“I think we’ll manage,” Duke echoed back, shrugging Ram’s jacket off of her shoulders in favor of looping her arms around Veronica’s neck. “I can’t believe this is _happening._ Thank god for my stupid damned diary.”


End file.
